


Undying Gratitude

by potentiallyAWKWARD



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 04:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14887226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiallyAWKWARD/pseuds/potentiallyAWKWARD
Summary: Sherlock says thanks to his favourite pathologist.





	Undying Gratitude

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a thanks to Chris Redmond (for writing a Johnlock one shot even though he doesn't ship it) before Everything happened. I'm not going to take it down, even though I don't ship Sherlolly and I don't associate with CR anymore.

Sherlock Holmes was very good at reading people. Profession, hobbies, family, sexual proclivities—all easily read by a simple shift of weight from one foot to another or the way one smiled. The inner workings of the mind was no mystery to Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes was very bad at reading people. In matters of sentiment, he was as clueless as a young child watching a romantic comedy on the telly while his mummy pressed his shirts beside him. Matters of love and friendship made no difference to The Work, so Sherlock did not bother himself with them. They were pointless emotions, anyway—dulled the senses to the things that _really_ mattered, like shoe size or medical history.

Which was why Sherlock was so very surprised when Molly Hooper walked into the lab at Bart's and made his heart flutter.

She didn't look much different from her usual appearance; same mousey brown hair, same chocolate brown eyes, same embarrassed blush that graced her cheeks whenever Sherlock looked at her for any extended period of time. It took Sherlock several seconds to pinpoint the exact reason his transport had reacted so strangely—her eye makeup. On an average day, the only makeup she wore was a thin line of kohl, almost undetectable amongst the long lashes. However, on this particular day, Molly Hooper had not only applied her eye liner thicker than usual, she had also opted for a smoky grey eye shadow that made her look nothing short of _sultry._

Why had Sherlock never noticed her eyes before? Besides the cursory glance to determine colour and shape, Sherlock only ever looked at her eyes to gauge her (needlessly flighty) emotions. As Molly made her way toward Sherlock, the detective took the time to really _look_ at her, not as an open book to be read, but as a beautiful woman who so obviously yearned for his attention.

"Your face looks nice," Sherlock mumbled, wincing as soon as the words came out of his mouth. "Sorry. I only meant-"

"Thank you, Sherlock," Molly interrupted with a trademark blush. "I think it's a bit much, honestly, but I'm going out straight after work with a few friends and they told me to look nice."

Sherlock tore his gaze from the pathologist and returned it to his computer screen. "Well, it suits you."

Molly hovered over Sherlock's shoulder, her minty breath fanning across his face as she read the report Sherlock was examining. Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he allowed his other senses to take over—Colgate Optic White toothpaste, Vera Wang "Princess" perfume (how had he never noticed before?), her heartbeat steady if not a bit rapid. She was strong and sturdy beside him, a tether to the world when his brain was too much for him.

Had he ever told her any of this? How could he? What words were there to tell her? He had never been good at communicating, especially feelings. How could he express his undying gratitude to the woman who had countless times saved him from himself?

"Molly," Sherlock started, turning toward her slightly. Her gaze shifted as she pulled back, flustered by the sudden proximity of their faces.

"Yes?" She asked, her eyes flickering between both of Sherlock's. She took her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it, waiting patiently for a response.

Oh.

_Oh._

"Molly," Sherlock started again, voice wavering slightly with the weight of his realization, "I would very much like to kiss you."

A brilliant blush engulfed her entire face, up to the roots of her hair. She took a step back, shell-shocked. "Sherlock, please... don’t."

Sherlock's stomach fell through the soles of his feet and onto the floor. "What?"

Molly took in a shuddering breath, wrapping her arms around herself as if cold in the suddenly hot room. "I know you aren't the best with, you know, social cues, but kissing me just to get me to help you with something or, or... getting you a sample, or something, is not okay."

Sherlock stood from his seat, suddenly towering over the pathologist. He leaned down, breath tickling her ear as he breathed, "Who's to say I don't mean it?"

Molly's breath hitched at the proximity, head tilting back so their mouths were level. "Oh."

"Oh," Sherlock agreed before pressing his lips to hers.


End file.
